Drama Academy
by Ayu Oto
Summary: A newly poor Massie Block travels all the way from England to one of the most prestigious schools in the world. Alicia Rivera's reign as Alpha has gone unchallenged for as long as she could identify a fake Marc Jacobs from the real deal. Claire Lyons is her undisputed beta. Dylan Marvil's rail thin. And Kristen Gregory? She's not the charity case in this story. —SeriouslyAU!PC


**disclaimer:** nothing belongs to me!  
**note:** links on my profile for clothes and that lot!  
**summary:** A newly poor Massie Block travels all the way from England to one of the most prestigious schools in the world. Alicia Rivera's reign as Alpha goes unchallenged for as long as she could identify a fake Marc Jacobs from the real deal. Claire Lyons is her undisputed beta. Dylan Marvil's rail thin. And Kristen Gregory? She's not the charity case in this story. —SeriouslyAU!PC  
**A/N: **this will have CANON pairings (A Tale of Two Pretties anyone?), so beware.

* * *

**Prologue  
—**_the prelude before the storm_**—  
**

* * *

Alicia Rivera typed furiously on the black keyboard of her MacBook Air, a back to school present from her parents.

How dare Claire Lyons bring in some new girl without asking her permission first? It was Alicia's little clique—or at least that's what the unspoken rule was— and the fact that Claire, being the hapless pushover that she was, had agreed to let some British export room with them without a second thought was almost a bigger betrayal than Brad leaving Jen for Angie.

**aliciar: **lyons! wtf were you thinking?  
**clairebear:** um, happy thoughts? :)

Alicia rolled her eyes as Dylan Marvil gave an unladylike snort from beside her, leaning over her shoulder to read the message. "She's in Photography with Cam."

"Ew."

"Besides, what does it matter?" Kristen Gregory called from the bathroom, where she was painstakingly applying a La Mer moisturizing mask, an almost religious routine she did after every practice. "Brits are _in_. Look at James Wright. He's been here barely a week and I'm pretty sure he'll be promoted to captain of the soccer team before tryouts even start."

"And he's hot." Dylan added.

"_So?_" Alicia snapped, closing her MacBook shut. She would deal with Claire _later. _"We're supposed to let some girl we don't even know stay with us for the rest of the year? Join _our _sleepovers? Share _our _clothes? No. Absolutely not."

"She's just living with us. No one's gonna make us be nice to her." Dylan replied, rolling off the bed, her long red hair staying impossibly straight. "I bet before the week's up, she'll be begging for a room change."

Kristen popped her head out from the bathroom, her brown eyes narrowed slight. "Is that a _real _bet?"

"If you mean an all paid shopping spree courtesy of Merri Lee for whoever gets her out, than, yes."

Alicia raised an eyebrow. "And the losers?"

Dylan mulled over it for a moment, furrowing her brows but before she could think of the proper punishment Alicia sat up straighter, clapping her hands in excitement. "Exile _with _the exile. The losers must become friends with the Brit."

"That doesn't sound so bad—"

"And then dump her."

* * *

A shrill whistle blew, and the blonde goalkeeper looked incredulously at the referee.

_What. The. F—_

"Hey Derrick!"

Derrick Harrington tried ignore Olivia Ryan's chipper voice coming from behind the goal, trying to wipe sweat from his eyes with the back of his glove, but all he really managed to do was rub mud across his face.

He had six minutes before the game was over and they were at a stalemate. All because of one fucking Brit thinking he could handle a ball. Which he could, even Derrick had to admit but like hell was he going let some foreigner break his uncontested _winning _streak.

Even if the ref was indicating otherwise.

"You're kidding, right?" He snapped at the referee. "He was offside by a mile!"

The ref shook his head from one side to the other as he marked the score two-all. He stomped up to the top of the box where the ref stood and tossed his hands in the air.

"This isn't a SAY game, you idiot!" Derrick snapped. "Are you fucking blind or just smoking crack—"

The next thing he knew, he was being pushed back to goal by an annoyed and exasperated Chris Plovert. "Chill out, Harrington. This is a scrimmage, not the fucking World Cup."

"He was _offside_." Derrick muttered, scowling darkly at other team, all of which consisted of half of _his_ teammates. "Or am I being too _immature _about this?"

"That's it, isn't it?" Plovert raised an eyebrow, giving his friend a weird look. "Listen, man, as your friend, I've gotta tell you this: you're being an ass." He quickly held up his hands defensively, not giving Derrick a chance to reply. "You were fine over the summer but the moment we get back and you get one _glimpse _of Alicia Rivera, you're done."

"Not true—"

"_Yes, _it is." He stressed, rolling his eyes. "And now you're taking it out on our talented Brit, just because _she _was all over him."

"_Our_ Brit?" Derrick glared back at the opposite goal, where the other team was congratulating the goal scorer. "Like fuck he's going to be on my team."

"Well, if you think up of a another way for us to make it even _close _to first this year, enlighten me because we don't have change in hell without him."

* * *

What had Massie Block even done to deserve any of this?

She had always been the perfect daughter to William and Kendra Block. She had gotten perfect grades, always top of her class, never maxed out her credit card, or brought any bad boy-esque boys home.

Except James Wright but he was so good at _acting_ good that sometimes even she _almost _believes him.

She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow as she stared at the austere building that would be her home for the next eight or so months. It made KISS look like the Buckingham Palace. All Massie saw were immense brick buildings, one after they other.

The campus itself was clean to the extreme—not a dry, fallen leaf in sight.

"Looks great, doesn't it?" William remarked, eyes gleaming at the sight of his old school before handing her a sparsely packed Louis Vuitton. "Hasn't changed one bit."

She suppressed the idea of rolling her eyes; Gawd, her parents could be _so _oblivious. She was not going to lie and say the endless _Aren't you excited's?_ weren't getting on her nerves, and she supposed it was a good thing that they still seemed to worry about her.

In their own way.

"Yeah, I guess," Massie replied nonchalantly, hiding the annoyance in her voice even though she was completely tired of repeating the same sentence over and over again. But as long as she kept on the happy facade, the sooner her parents would say their goodbye's and the sooner she'd be reunited with her boyfriend. So she smiled; a happy, reassuring smile that told them she was going to survive and enjoy this place, even if it was without the aid of a Platinum AmEx _or _the best friends she'd known since she could identify a knockoff Marc Jacobs from the real deal.

If Kate Middleton could still get public adoration after photos of her royal parts could be seen by anyone with access to Google, she could survive this.

Somehow.

"Good luck, sweetheart." Kendra gave her a tight hug. "You'll meet some great people!"

_Don't hold your breath_.

"Sure. See you later."

She waved them goodbye and sighed in relief as soon the Range Rover was out of sight. Taking a sharp breath, she turned around to face her new school — Westchester Academy, home of the Eagles.

How typically _American_ of them.

Massie took a sharp breath and marched up the stone steps toward the stately front doors, yanking one open. Unsurprisingly, the marbles floors were shining brightly and not a speck of dust could be seen _anywhere. _Almost hesitantly she walked towards the Administration Office, suddenly very aware that she was wearing last year's Jimmy Choo's on her unmanicured feet. And a summery Alice + Olivia dress that had long passed it's expiration date.

This must be how Kim K must feel every time she hung out with Beyonce: _nawt _worthy.

There was a woman with gleaming blonde hair and glossy lips—Ivy, it said on her name tag—sitting at the reception table, her red manicured fingers flying at the keyboard of her flat screen Mac. Massie secretly hoped that not _all _Americans looked like her. Because if that were the case, she got the feeling she was not going to fit in.

Ivy glanced up from her computer screen as she walked in and her face was plastered with a huge, professional smile.

"Hello, you must be Massie Block! Welcome to our school. Let me get you some forms to fill out—would you like something to drink? A cup of water? Tea?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright. I'll be right back."

The click-clacking of her stilettos —even the receptionist was wearing _Balenciaga's_— grew fainter as she disappeared into one of the offices. A few minutes later, she came back with a stack of white paper and a stack of yellow.

"Here's your schedule, a map of our school, and I just need your signature for these . . . . "

Great.

_More _paperwork.

The dormitory that she was supposed to be living in looked pretty close to her classrooms, or so it seemed on the map. Massie quickly signed the papers without reading them and thanked the receptionist before exiting the office. Ivy, it seemed, liked to use an excess of Chanel No. 5 and the smell of it was starting to make her sick.

"Have a great day first day!" The blonde added happily. "If you need any help, please don't hesitate to ask."

Massie gave her a grim smile in return and grabbed her Louis Vuitton—which was looking quite shabby in comparison to her surroundings—, stalking out of the small office. That wasn't _so _bad (Ivy seemed nice enough, though she needed lighten up on her makeup) and since the first class of the morning was currently in session that meant she could—

"That's _my _Chanel you're wearing, Dylan! I got it last week at Barney's!" A dark haired girl wearing a light blue Ralph Lauren mini was standing with her arms crossed, glaring at a redhead, quite a ways down the hall from Massie.

"Um, Leesh? It's _Coach. _And _mine._" The sharp reply rang clearly in the empty hall, despite the owner stuffing a Luna bar into her mouth. She scrunched up the paper and threw into a nearby waste bin, hoisting the black purse higher on her shoulder.

"You buy Coach?" The brunette recoiled in disgust and Massie smirked. At least _some _Americans seemed to have taste.

The redhead shrugged noncommittally, hastily wiping her hands on her True Religions jeans. "Can we just go? Myner's gonna have a cow if we don't show up for his precious Geography class."

The two turned down a hallway and went out of sight, leaving her standing there with her suitcase in one hand, schedule in the other and a feeling of resignment.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all?

* * *

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**if you'd like this to continue! =)


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